


so wicked in the way he moves

by ballsdeepinjesus



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Car Sex, Future Fic, God fucking dammit, HL in their 40s, M/M, Sex in a Car, anything can be porn if u just believe, just to hit both bases there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-07
Updated: 2015-03-07
Packaged: 2018-03-16 17:02:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3496109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ballsdeepinjesus/pseuds/ballsdeepinjesus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Harry eyes the upholstery of the seats with a weary sigh. He hunts around the floor and lets out a cry of triumph when he finds a towel beneath his seat. He spreads it out from the back support to the actual seat itself and settles himself in that spot, bent over and facing the trunk. He wiggles his arse impatiently while Louis gives him a curious look.</em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>  <em>“A lot of things have been spilled in this car, Louis,” he says, thinking back to all of the times he had to spot clean juice stains and vacuum Cheerios from the floor. “But semen is not going to be one of them, not if I can help it.”</em></p><p> </p><p>[harry and louis are parents at football practice]</p>
            </blockquote>





	so wicked in the way he moves

**Author's Note:**

> hiiiiiiiii so. this was based off [this](http://harryscontentbum.tumblr.com/post/112935401611) lmao
> 
> it's just a dinky little thing i wrote while i was writing something else and now i've lost inspiration for the other thing so here's thIS THING

There’s something about seeing Louis running down the pitch, yelling out commands and directions to the group on the field with a demanding kind of assertiveness that lands Harry into a bit of a predicament. He feels hot under the collar, his belly stirring with feelings he very much does not want to feel surrounded by parents and children under the age of thirteen. He wants to explore these feelings alone, on his back, preferably with Louis hot and sweaty above him. He crosses his legs discreetly in his sun chair and adjusts his sunglasses on his nose so he can watch Louis unabashedly. Not that anyone would judge him -- they know how Harry is. 

Louis has baggy joggers on with thick socks covering the hem, his customary casual outfit of choice since he was in his early twenties. He’s wearing his pair of football boots he’s owned for over two decades, the ones he wore during his first charity match. They’ve been falling apart for awhile now but neither Louis nor Harry has the heart to throw them away. Harry smiles as he thinks back to that night, how he felt positively bursting with love and pride and complete admiration for his boy. It’s a feeling that hasn’t gone away over the years, only intensified over time. 

The man in question turns when he makes his way on the sideline towards where Harry sits and gives him a flirty wink and an air kiss, smile dropping to a frown when Harry doesn’t send him one back. Instead, Harry nibbles his lower lip and fidgets in his chair, waving Louis away when he starts to walk over. He doesn’t want to admit that he’s suffering from incurable horniness in the middle of bloody football practice. He’s not a teenager anymore, not that that’s ever stopped him before.

Harry gives him a thumbs up that dissolves Louis’ frown; he grins and gives him the sign back, turning back around to walk the sidelines. 

Louis isn’t a coach, per se, as much as he’d love to be one. When their kids were younger Louis was right in the thick of things, teaching them the basics and glowing every time one of the kids called him “Coach Lou.” But as the kids grew more advanced and the practices grew more thorough, work and life commitments kept him from coaching full-time. He still liked to pop by for all of the games and the occasional practice with Harry, always eager to lend a hand with the starry-eyed kids who never seemed to have gotten over having a former popstar teach them proper legwork. 

Harry watches their own little rugrat River jogging along with his friends, eyes focused on the ball that’s being passed around. He’s their youngest child and coincidentally the one who looks the most like both of them. While Finn solely takes after Louis and Ariel is a mini-me of Harry, River looks like both of them no matter which way you turn him. He has Louis’ eyes and nose but also Harry’s dimples and mouth. His hair is Harry’s favorite, caramel-colored swoopy ringlets that are always just a little bit messy. 

He’s painfully shy, but possesses the fierce sort of determination in life that Harry likes to think he and his husband have played a vital part in. 

“Take the shot, Riv!” Louis yells, startling Harry from his fond thoughts. He watches as River’s shoulders go rigid, eyes turning steely as they lock onto the football. He comes out of nowhere and steals the ball from a defender and sends it flying into the net in a perfect swooping arc. Louis whoops in excitement, unable to stop himself from running onto the field and embarrassing his son, sweeping him into a hug. Harry praises the gods above that it’s only a friendly scrimmage between the team as a whole or else Louis would be in deep shit.

River pushes Louis away, trying to escape his hugs, but Harry can see the happy pride in his son’s face even from the sidelines. Louis lets him go eventually, sending him off towards his teammates with a pat on the back and a nonchalant “Nice job, kiddo.” He walks back to the sidelines with an unshakeable grin on his face, pushing his sweaty fringe out of the way to look at Harry. 

He’s not sure what it is, maybe hormones firing off in his brain at the sight of Louis being such a _parent_ (Harry’s always been weird about that.), or the remnants of his earlier arousal, but suddenly Harry just _wants_. He wants Louis’ stubble against his neck, over the ever-prevalent pudge above his belly, between his sensitive inner thighs. He checks his phone for the time and makes a split-second decision when he sees there’s forty-five minutes of practice left. 

Harry stands, folding up his chair calmly and tucking everything he brought with him into his laughably expensive Louis Vuitton bag. Holding the chair under his arm, he walks over to Louis and grabs his hand, pulling him from the field. Some of the other parents look at him knowingly, but Harry ignores them, feeling a blush spread across his cheeks. 

“Harry?” Louis asks in confusion. “Where are we going, babe?” Harry shushes him and walks straight toward the parking lot and the luxury minivan they’d bought quite a few years ago after River was born. “Hazza? Are you feeling sick?”

Shaking his head, Harry opens the trunk and puts his chair and bag in the back, slamming it shut after a moment and spinning in place to face his husband. He pulls his sunglasses up to rest on the crown of his head and bites his lip, staring at Louis who looks adorably baffled.

“Baby?” he questions, the wrinkles by his eyes crinkling in concern. Harry melts into a puddle of sexually frustrated goo. He pulls Louis close for a kiss, wrapping his arms around his neck while Louis settles his hands onto his favorite spot, the always doughy flesh of Harry’s hips.

“I need you,” he whispers into Louis’ ear. Instead of immediately dragging him into the backseat to ravish him like Harry had envisioned, Louis starts letting out little giggles, his shoulders shaking under Harry’s arms. 

“That’s what this is about?” he laughs. “You horny little minx.”

Harry pouts. It’s not like their sex life changed that drastically after marriage and children. They always can find time for a much-needed fuck if Harry or Louis are particularly hard up for it. But over the years, the insatiable urge to go at it like bunnies began to share time with other urges, like getting a good night of sleep or spooning for hours in their bed just talking and joking around.

But Harry’s desperate for it now, and he’d appreciate it if Louis did less laughing and more...sexing.

He pulls open the door to the back-seat and climbs in, mindful of Louis’ eyes on his arse. He shakes it as he crawls to the other side of the vehicle, turning his head to wiggle his eyebrows at Louis teasingly. “You gonna laugh at me or are you gonna get a piece of this, pal?”

Louis rolls his eyes fondly and climbs in behind him, shutting the door and locking it. He sits on the other end of the car and pats his thighs. “Come on then. Can I ask what got you hot and bothered?”

Harry shrugs, crawling forward again and straddling Louis’ thighs. “Just got a little caught up looking at my fit husband. Now if said fit husband would shut up and fuck me in less than thirty minutes, that would be wonderful. Think you’re capable, old man?” He sweeps his fingers through Louis’ salt and pepper hair that he’s been lusting after since it first appeared on his head. Louis had panicked at the sight of his first grey hair and had been seconds from driving to the shops to buy hair dye, but Harry stopped him with a gentle but insistent hand on his wrist. He’d sucked his brain out through his dick after that, actually, and Louis had never complained about his grey hair again. 

“Are you challenging me?” Louis asks huskily, sliding his hands under Harry’s shirt and gripping his sides roughly. “Think we both know I can get you off in way under thirty minutes, love.”

“Prove it,” Harry whispers into his mouth.

Louis surges forward and licks into Harry’s mouth without any warning, tugging at Harry’s shirt until he lifts it over his head, not bothering to try and undo the buttons. His hands immediately go to his chest, squeezing and pinching his sensitive nipples. He ducks down and sucks one into his evil little mouth, licking and sucking and biting until he’s pulling whiny moans from Harry’s lips. He squeezes Harry’s arse over his jeans, massaging it gently with his palms and then giving him sharp smacks that send him rocking down onto Louis’ crotch. 

“You’re the best,” Harry moans. “Never doubting you again. Can I suck you off?” Louis freezes with his mouth on his chest and looks up at Harry through his eyelashes, his curved eyebrows shooting up toward the ceiling. He lets his nipple go with a _pop_ and nods, moving himself and Harry around until his back rests against the seat cushion. 

“Never gonna turn that down. Go for it,” he says with faux-nonchalance. Harry sees right through it, delighting in the rapid rise and fall of Louis’ chest. Harry only lets himself revel in it for a moment, mindful of the clock, and then he tugs Louis’ joggers straight down to his calves. He raises his eyebrows at the lack of pants underneath. “Naughty,” he giggles.

“Please, we all know when it comes to pants _you’re_ the naughty one,” Louis answers, making Harry blush and duck down to stuff his mouth with cock out of sudden shyness. Louis still manages to catch him off guard after all these years.

“Jesus,” Louis moans, fingers clenching on the seats. Harry longs to feel them in his hair, but he figures they should save some of his kinks for when they’re on more than borrowed time. However, Louis, blessed mindreader that he is, pulls Harry’s hair back anyway, tugging gently as Harry noses all the way down to the base of Louis’ cock. He hums throatily, his favorite trick, and pulls off to fist Louis’ dick in his hand and drag the tip messily across his mouth. He licks at the tip, sucking it in between his lips and flicking his tongue over the head. Louis tugs sharply at his hair but that just urges Harry on, making him want to tease him more. He’s forgotten about the time completely, but thankfully Louis still has some sense in him.

“Are you going to tease or do you want to get fucked?” he asks. “Don’t have time for both today, sweetheart.”

Harry whines and complies, sucking Louis back down until he hits the back of his throat. Meanwhile, Louis tries to reach his arm into their center console to grab the lube they’ve always kept there. If being together for almost twenty-five years has taught either of them anything, it’s that lube is an essential part of their lives that must be kept on hand at all times. There was a brief period in Harry’s life where he strongly considered keeping a bottle of it stored in his boot; he started buying designer bags for himself after that. 

Louis finds it eventually, dropping it to his side while he moans and runs his palms down Harry’s back toward his bum. “As much as I live and die by your mouth, baby, I think we should--,” he cuts himself off and makes a crude gesture with his fingers. Harry’s not sure he’s in a position to consider anything crude when he has a cock down his throat.

He pulls off Louis’ dick regretfully, giving it a few dainty kisses on its head before pulling off entirely and sitting with his back against the door to pull his jeans off. “Take your shirt off, will you?” he directs toward Louis who’s leisurely stroking himself while he watches Harry strip. “Make yourself useful.” Louis rolls his eyes but pulls his top off, tossing it onto the floor.

Harry eyes the upholstery of the seats with a weary sigh. He hunts around the floor and lets out a cry of triumph when he finds a towel beneath his seat. He spreads it out from the back support to the actual seat itself and settles himself in that spot, bent over and facing the trunk. He wiggles his arse impatiently while Louis gives him a curious look.

“A lot of things have been spilled in this car, Louis,” he says, thinking back to all of the times he had to spot clean juice stains and vacuum Cheerios from the floor. “But semen is not going to be one of them, not if I can help it.”

Louis barks out a laugh and finally moves, shuffling to hover behind Harry. He clings to Harry’s back like a koala while he reaches for the bottle of lube. “Very smart thinking, darling.”

Harry hums agreeably and rests his head in his folded arms as Louis clicks the bottle open and squeezes it on his hand. He lets out a happy sigh when the familiar feel of Louis’ fingers makes its way to his bum. He pets his wet fingers at Harry’s hole, rubbing him again and again until Harry’s breaths start to falter, working his arse back on his hand.

“Always so eager,” Louis grins. “Love you.”

“Love you too,” Harry squeaks as Louis abruptly presses his finger inside. He knows Harry’s body like the back of his hand after being together for so long, and he can play him like a violin. It drives Harry nuts, but he’s endlessly grateful to have such a talented husband.

“Be quick about it,” Harry complains breathlessly just to be a brat. He moves his head to the side and giggles at the offended look on Louis’ face.

“I’ll show you quick,” he mutters, sliding another finger in along the first and curving it down toward his belly where he knows to find Harry’s prostate. He stretches him a little and then slides in a third because Harry knows that Louis knows he can take it. He feels another flutter of affection in his chest and he knows he’s going to want a massive cuddle session when he gets home. 

Louis jabs his fingers at his prostate abruptly, cutting off Harry’s schmoopy thoughts and making him cry out loudly, unfolding his arms and gripping the back of the seat. Louis circles the bud of flesh relentlessly until Harry can’t take it anymore, slamming his hand against the seat and whining, “Please, your cock. I want it.”

“Of course baby,” Louis coos, sliding his fingers out after a moment and wiping them off on the towel. He reaches for the lube again and leaves Harry breathless and waiting while he coats himself, the slick noises echoing around the van making Harry’s mouth water. When he brushes the head of his cock against Harry’s entrance, Harry can’t help but press himself backward, trying to get him inside faster. “Patience, baby, don’t want to hurt you,” Louis murmurs.

“I’ve been taking you up my arse for two decades, you twat,” Harry complains. “Fuck me.”

“Bossy,” Louis laughs. Harry’s about to answer when Louis finally thrusts forward in one smooth motion, cradling Harry’s hips as his balls slap against the back of his thighs obscenely loud. Harry curses and reaches behind himself for one of Louis’ hands, squeezing it with his own as Louis pulls out and drives back in. He threads his fingers through Harry’s, a tender gesture that beautifully contradicts the powerful motions of his hips.

Harry can’t stop his loud moans, crying and sobbing in pleasure as Louis fucks him so good, punching noises out of him with every thrust.

“Baby, everyone’s going to hear you,” Louis warns, but his voice sounds less cautious than it does smug. “Anyone in this parking lot who walks by will hear you and they’ll know exactly what’s going on. You want that?” Harry croaks out a yes that makes Louis laugh into his back. “Of course you do, you kinky little shit.” It’s not like Harry can deny that one, but Louis is just the same. 

Louis circles his hips when he thrusts deep inside, grinding his hips against Harry’s arse and pushing him into the seat. Harry cries out and squeezes Louis’ hand once, letting go then to latch onto the seat for balance. He spreads his thighs out on the blanket so Louis can get even closer, fucking him harder until the van starts bouncing with every thrust. 

He knows their time is limited, but he wants this to go on forever anyway, careless over who could hear them or suspect their lengthy absence. He remembers the knowing looks on several of the parents’ faces as they left the field earlier. It’s not like there’s anyone who can’t guess what they’re up to right now anyway.

But he can feel his orgasm stirring, heedless to his desire to go on forever. His belly screws tighter as Louis focuses his thrusts on that one spot he always hits when he wants Harry to come just from his cock. It’s his favorite trick, says it flatters his ego to see Harry fall apart just from his cock fucking him relentlessly. Harry always rolls his eyes afterward and calls him a show-off, but he loves it just as much and Louis knows it. 

“You gonna come soon, love?” Louis asks. His thrusts are growing more focused in the way they usually do before he completely loses control. All Harry can do is moan, falling forward against the seat as his body goes boneless, spiralling quickly toward his orgasm.

“Come on baby,” Louis urges, his scratchy voice low and sexy but exhausted. “I know you can do it for me, sweetheart.”

That seems to do the trick; Harry’s entire body draws itself tight like Louis is a puppeteer pulling his strings. His cock pulses once and then he’s coming all over the towel with an ear-splitting scream that he doesn’t even try to muffle. He can feel himself squeezing Louis tight like a vice, trying to milk his orgasm out of him.

“Oh my-- _fuck_ ,” Louis grunts, thrusting haphazardly a few more times before freezing up and coming deep inside Harry, his body jerking and spasming against his own. He drapes himself over Harry’s back, panting into his neck while they both try and catch their breaths.

Harry moans and throws a loose-limbed arm out to the side to try and find his phone; he reaches his jeans somehow and grabs it out of one of the pockets to check the time. “Fuck,” he mutters. “Practice let out two minutes ago. Can you go get River?”

“Why me?” Louis whines, peeling himself off Harry’s back and pulling his joggers back on anyway. 

“Because my arse is sore,” Harry pouts. “And you didn’t use a bloody condom.” He wrinkles his nose and turns to sit on the towel, bending down to pick up his clothes. “ _Please_ go get our son while I try and fumigate the van?”

“I’m going, I’m going,” Louis sighs. He opens the van door while Harry’s pulling on his jeans, ducking his head outside to make sure the coast is clear. He leans in to give Harry a peck on the mouth and darts out of the van to jog to the field. 

Harry reaches over the console and puts his key in the ignition so he can roll down the windows. He balls up the towel and throws it all the way in the back and then climbs into the passenger seat, smiling to himself at the dull ache in his arse that he’s always enjoyed entirely too much. 

Louis comes back in five minutes by himself, climbing into the driver’s seat and shrugging his shoulders. “Joey asked if River could spend the night at his house. Figured I should say yes, considering...” he trails off, gesturing at the back-seat.

“It’s a school night, Lou!” Harry argues and frowns. “He doesn’t even have a change of clothes with him.”

“The van smells like _spunk_ Harold,” Louis shoots back. He says nothing else, just stares at Harry with a _you’ve-gotta-be-kidding-me_ kind of look. Harry tries to glare back, but he dissolves into helpless giggles soon enough, leaning his cheek against the headrest as he bites his lip and watches a slow grin spread across Louis’ face.

“We’re acting like bloody teenagers,” Harry giggles merrily.

“Don’t think we’ve ever stopped,” Louis answers. “How about we stop home for River’s things, drop them off and then go back home and fuck like rabbits. Ariel and Finn are at their friend's houses until curfew tonight, so...I think I’ll be ready again in an hour,” he muses.

“Old man,” Harry whispers, cackling as Louis squawks and dives forward to tickle Harry’s sides.

“You take that back!” he chides, fingers digging into Harry’s ribs. 

“I give! I give!” Harry yelps. Louis’ fingers stop, but remain poised in attack position. “You’re not an old man, you’re my very sexy and youthful husband who I love very much.” Louis eyes him suspiciously, but finally moves back and puts his hands on the wheel, facing forward.

“That’s more like it,” he sniffs, adding, “I love you too,” quickly under his breath.

Harry can’t help smiling the whole way home and the brief trip to River’s friends house, his lips spreading even wider when they’re in the doorway of their house and he whispers, “Race you upstairs, old man” into Louis’ ear.

**Author's Note:**

> boop
> 
> find me @harryscontentbum on tumblr ;D


End file.
